


A Truly Madly Deadly Secret

by AllLoveIsEqual



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Magic, Paranormal, Supernatural - Freeform, Witch - Freeform, Wizard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllLoveIsEqual/pseuds/AllLoveIsEqual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you tell the person you love a secret so dangerous that it risks putting their life in danger?  My name is Liam, Liam Payne. A telekinetic in training. But when an uprising begins and an all-out war threatens to break loose, I must put everything I've learnt into practice to stay alive and protect those I love around me.   London has become the final battleground for Mortals and Supernatural beings and there's only one thing that occupies my mind: Protect Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Focus.

I can feel a bead of sweat dripping down my forehead. I tense my muscles, squinting my eyes on the yellow ball in front of me, my arms become taut, causing the veins to pop out. And just like that, I enter a state of complete focus. I don’t see the ball as a ball, but a sphere of particles. I imagine being able to move those particles, commanding them to move with my mind.

Rise! I say in my mind, and the ball slowly complies; it begins to levitate above the cold tiles of the floor. I could feel adrenaline surge through my veins and my heart begins to beat faster and harder, so hard that I could feel the vibrations resonate throughout my body. I keep my eyes on the ball, it’s slowly rising still; it’s just reached the height of my waist – and I’m quite tall: five foot and eleven inches, to be exact.

“That’s it Liam,” I could hear my instructors voice behind me. “Stay focused.” His voice was placid, which wasn’t very inciting.

I keep my eyes on the ball and decide to take it up another level. Circle me! The ball didn’t hesitate to do as I told and it began to circle around me at an incredible speed, it was so fast that you couldn’t even see it; it became a blur.

But with it travelling at such a high speed, I couldn’t keep my eyes on it and it suddenly flew out of my control and bounced off the wall, hitting my head on its rebound. I place my hand at the site of impact and began to gently rub it. So that didn’t go quite to plan.

“That’s what you get for being so cocky, Liam.” My instructor lightly reprimanded, his arms folded across his broad and muscular chest. “Seriously, you’re just as bad as the Aquatics when it comes to training; so cheeky and impatient: a virtue that brings upon the downfall of a man in combat.”

“I am not cheeky, nor impatient!” I retort through gritted teeth. As a Telekinetic, I should value patience and selflessness to truly understand my surroundings… but that is something I’m currently having trouble with. Not that I’d admit it, especially to my egotistic instructor.

“Maybe those were a bad choice of words,” He says through a small chuckle. “How about: Pretentious. Yes, that’s exactly what you are.”

“And what does that even mean?”

“It means, you try hard to impress.”

Hearing that was like having venom slowly injected into your veins. It hurts. To know that someone would believe that everything I do is for such a selfish purpose; I don’t try to impress; I try to push myself to my boundaries. I need to know how far I can control my power and if it means to ‘try hard’ then so be it.

I see the yellow ball in my periphery, its idly sitting in the corner of one of the four steeled-walls that makes up the training-room. I look towards my instructor with a flat expression on my face. He’s standing there, smugly; a smirk plastered on his big lips. Let’s wipe that smirk off your petty little face, shall we.

“So,” I started, trying to distract him. Rise! And the ball slowly does. “How can I keep a better control of the object I’m manipulating?” I ask, slightly curious but more for the fact that I know it’ll keep him talking.

He smiles at my question. He enjoys it when he can teach me something: it makes him feel more superior. “Well, you can’t just see the object, you have to try and feel it, too.” He explained, his voice sounded passionate. This was probably why he became an instructor. The theory behind telekinesis really enticed him from a young age. My mum always told me that he would read books on how to strengthen his powers and by the age of twenty, he became one of our leading Telekinetic.

“Feel it, huh?” I ask, cocking my head to one side. I could see the ball reach the height of his head. “Well, try feeling this!” I quickly say and jerk my head forwards, sending the ball flying towards him like lightning.

Its path was leading straight to his forehead. A feeling of achievement erupted inside me, but it soon subsided as I watched the ball stop, dead, just in front of him. Then, with no warning, it shot straight towards me and hit me square on the forehead. It didn’t hurt a lot, but it had enough momentum to send me stumbling backwards. I lean on the wall to support me, its cold surface cooling my hands which grew hot from all the excitement.

“Did YOU feel it?” he says rather smug, the smirk grew even wider.

“You know,” I start, pushing myself off the wall and rubbing my forehead. “You’re a real dick, at times.” I smirk at him and he trails over and gives me a light punch on the arm.

“Don’t use that word in front of your instructor,” he says lightly, but there is a sense of seriousness to it, too. “Idiot.” He adds before turning to one of the walls.

I watch as his brown eyes dilute and his eyebrows press together causing a crease to form in between them. His breathing stills – I watch his chest slowly rise and fall – he raises his hand, pressing the palm of it against the wall. The room tenuously trembles and I watch the wall slowly retreat back down to the ground, then the wall next to it started to fall down, then the next, until the final wall has retreated and we were once again part of the Supernatural Ability Training Hall. (Or SATH as we liked to call it.)

The hall was rather big and was divided into four sections: The section we’re standing in is specifically for those who use the mind to manipulate the environment around us, so the Protectors, Telekinetics and Deceivers trained here. To control our powers, we have to be able to focus, so our instructors would always enclose us in a room, separating us from the other supernatural beings, just like mine did.

The neighbouring section were for the Elementalists: The Aquatics, Pyromaniacs, Subterras and the Aeris. Everyone in this Hall is either sixteen going seventeen or just turned sixteen. Our powers unlock once we turn sixteen. I’ve been sixteen for six months now and I’ve spent the majority of this year confined in that small training room. So we are all basically beginners; initiates, to make it sound less pathetic. And Initiating Elementalists couldn’t conjure their element; they can only manipulate it. Therefore, in their section lies a small pool of their element: The Subterras would have a field of dirt the size of a typical suburban backyard; the aquatics have a small pool filled with water; the pyromaniacs have a force field in the shape of a dome – which elder Protectors placed to prevent any accidental fires occurring – where a pool of lava resides. The Aeris’ don’t need anything because the resource they manipulate surrounds us constantly. I mean, we breathe in air for crying out loud, they don’t need a resource pool.

The next section are for the spiritualists: Shamans and Healers, mainly. Although they have no offensive powers, their skills are integral to the well-being of others. My mum is a healer and she spends a majority of her time in the hospital ward, taking care of those who have hurt themselves, especially at this time of year when the Arena opens.

The arena is a really silly thing, I think. It’s a place where supernatural beings above the age of eighteen go and fight, sometimes to the death. It works like a normal championship: Winner scales the ladder and heads closer to the final. But some of those idiots who apply don’t care about facing death, because the prize victory gives is worth the risk. Which I don’t completely disagree with. You earn a plethora of wealth and a reputation that never ceases to exist. You become the next ‘Supernatural Sweetheart’ and everyone will begin drowning you in adoration and affection.

The final section, however, no one apart from the Dark Magicians dare to tread on. It’s a private sector led by the lead Necromancer: Morgana Coalfey. It’s where all Necromancers train. No one dares associates with them. I once heard that an Aeris tried to speak to a Necromancer and he killed the girl in the blink of an eye and trapped her soul in his staff. Poor girl had no chance. But manipulating life and death can have its consequences; all Necromancers are pale in skin and dark rings circle their eyes, their lips are always bone-dry and cracked, and their robes emanate black smoke. So it wasn’t hard to spot a Necromancer.

Pinpricks of sunlight cascade through the windows of the hallway and fills the room with light. The hallway was modern in its architecture and it was mainly built from steel and glass, so each ray of sun would always be deflected into other parts of the room and would easily light it up.

“What time is it?” I ask, turning around to look at my instructor. He fishes out his phone from his jean pockets and reads the time.

He opens his mouth to inform me but is interrupted by another person. “It’s five to twelve, Liam.” I hear a high pitched, calm yet naturally seductive voice speak.

I turn to see one of my friends, Susan. She’s a Deceiver. They have the ability to read and control minds, and produce hallucinations. She must have read his mind before he could even tell me the time.

“Hey, Susan.” I wave at her and she bows her head at me, then to my instructor.

“You have got to stop doing that Susan.” He shakes his head and releases sighs in exasperation.

“Sorry, Luke.” She quickly apologises, fluttering her eyelids at him. Luke glares at her; he hates it when we call him by his first name. That’s why I always call him ‘Instructor’ or ‘Sir’, otherwise he’ll just make training feel like hell.

“Whatever,” he ignores her attempts of flirting and shakes his head. I try to suppress a laugh when I see Susan slump her shoulders down in annoyance. She really likes him but the funny thing is: Luke’s gay. But only the Telekinetics know that. “Okay, you guys go and have lunch. Eat a lot! Tag battle commences after lunch. Be here in an hour, got it?” He commands solemnly and Susan and I don’t hesitate to nod our heads.

Every day the two sections of the SATH come together to participate in a Tag Battle. The Necromancers don’t take part because they believe training is far more important than putting what we’ve learnt into practice. The spiritualists can’t really help because they have no offensive skills and therefore heal the injured combatants after each fight.

Each day a certain section gets to pick their partner. Yesterday was our turn and I picked my friend, Simon, who’s a pyromaniac, and we ended up beating our opponents, a duo consisting of an Aeris and Aquatic.

So that means today the Elementalists will get to pick their partners; today, Simon will pick me and I’ll take part in another Tag battle.


	2. Welcome to S.A.T.H

“So,” Susan sheepishly walks towards me, her head hanging low and innocent. “Where do you want to go?”

 

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“We can go get some Chinese. I haven’t had that in a while.”

“Sure.”

“Are we going to wait for Joh-“

And at just that moment, John himself appears. “Hey guys!” He chirps, a smile on his face. I knew the reason behind the smile, though: Susan. He’s had a crush on her since training began, but she’s become blinded by her useless pursuit for Luke.

“Have you guys seen Simon, or Lunia?” I ask, surveying the Hall, but the crowd is too big for me to spot them.

“No. Sorry,” Susan shakes her head ruefully and John shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You guys go. I’ll wait for them.” I inform them, beckoning them to go. Susan looked reluctant but John had a smirk on his face; he liked my plan. Of course you’d like to spend some alone time with Susan. A ghost of a smile plays upon my lips.

However, they did and were soon out the doors that would lead them to the Janitor’s closet of the Library where the S.A.T.H was hidden. I walk down the middle of the hallway, heading towards the Pyro-dome. As I walk, I could see a Subterra girl trying to manipulate a mound of earth by her feet. Her hairline was full of sweat and her eyes were strained, her lips were pressed into a flat line and her green eyes twinkles with determination; her hands were creating circle movements but, much to her dismay, nothing was happening.

I remember when I was just like her; when I first came here, I spent hours just staring at the ball, unsuccessful to make it move. I always became frustrated and would scream and yell at my instructor, who would then placate me and tell me to try again… and again… and again. This lasted for a good month. The first time I made the ball rise, I leapt onto Luke and screamed down his ears. He didn’t scold me. In fact, he was very proud of me.

The girl sighs in defeat and she slumps her arms down by her side. I look around to see if an instructor would come to her aid but they were far too busy training other Elementalists. I decide to take it upon myself to help her.

I amble towards the girl and place my hand on her shoulder, which immediately makes her turn and face me. Her eyes were as green as the leaves on a tree and her hair as rich and deep in brown as the soil we tread on. No wonder she’s a Subterra.

“You’re trying too hard,” I lightly tell her. “You have to just let it flow through you and make yourself feel the softness of the earth, before you can command it.”

She takes a deep breath and nods. I place my hands over her eyes and I can feel her shoulders rising and falling with each breath she takes. Then, she raises both her hands, the palms facing the floor, and I watch, completely amazed, as a wall of dirt slowly rises from the mound of soil in front of us. She, then, fluently snaps her wrists and the wall crumbles back down to the ground. A small flutter of achievement courses through me, not for my sake, but for hers.

I release my hands from her eyes and she doesn’t hesitate to turn around and engulf me in a hug. “Thank you!” She squeals into my chest. I laugh and place my hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away.

“It’s no problem,” I tell her through a chuckle. “So, what’s your name then?”

“Elizabeth,” She smiles, “Elizabeth Wills.”

My mouth drops at the information; so Luke’s little sister has now become an initiate. I scrutinise her physique: she’s not like Luke; she’s slim and fragile-looking, not broad and scary. Her face has a certain sweetness to it, it isn’t intimidating like Luke’s.

“There you are!” A breathless voice speaks from behind me. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I turn to find Simon, bent over, hands on his knees, and breathing heavily. “I get that the Hall is big, but are you really that out of breath?” I ask, smirking a little.

“Says the guy who stands in the centre of a room for training. I had to sit in the centre of a lava pool and continually repel the incoming ripples of lava that were coming towards me. That tires you out, man!” He defends, crossing his arms across his chest – which was still rising and falling frantically.

“Well, it sucks to be you!” I snort.

“Who’s the girl, huh?” he questions, suspiciously, his eyebrows were raised.

That’s Simon for you: An annoying little twat. He always suspects that I’m chasing a girl. I mean, I use to when I first came here, but that was ages ago. Now, I don’t really find any of the girls here delectable.

He, on the other hand, was a favourite contender for the girls. I suppose it’s his silky smooth blonde hair that sweeps over his left eye which causes the girls to swoon and scream; or, perhaps it’s his piercing blue eyes that can captivate any soul that stares into it. I don’t know. I’ve never really spent my time admiring guys. I’m not gay… at least I don’t think so. Apart from that one time Luke kissed me during training – but we keep that a secret. It was an accident, anyways. (Or so he says.)

“Elizabeth, this is Simon.” I extend my arms towards Simon who nods his head towards her.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” He greets her, winking his eyes, slyly.

To my disbelief, I hear Elizabeth lightly chuckle and hang her head low. “Well, hey there, Simon. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” She extends her hand and Simon shakes it, longer than usual. As she retreats her hand, I see a small blush creep its way on her cheeks.

Girls… I roll my eyes and leave the two swallows to chirp away. As I exit the Subterra training area, I could hear the voices of two males speaking to one another. I’m not one to eavesdrop but something was inciting me to listen. So I did.

“So, we’re gonna play a trick on that stupid cleaner tonight, yeah?” he says, his voice was derisive and malicious.

“Yeah, the kid has no magic, anyways. I wonder why he’s still allowed to come here.” The other guy speaks. His voice was less harsh than the other kid but the same tone of ridicule was present.

“It’s his family’s punishment. Apart from losing their magic, they must look after this building.”

“Do you know what his family did to lose their magic?”

“No. But it must be something bad.”

“Yeah. Well, how about if the pool accidentally ‘swallows’ him up… we don’t drown him of course, but, come on, it’ll be funny.”

I clench my jaw; nothing irks me more than gratuitous cruelty. I turn around to see who the boys were and find that they were a pair of Aquatics. They both had dishevelled, sandy brown hair and their body looked like twigs. I planned on going over to them and tell them to not even think about doing such a thing. That is, until an idea popped inside my head.

If you guys want a prank, you can have one. I smirk and walk away. I briskly walk towards Lunia: she will have a better knowledge of this ‘cleaner’ because she spends most her time after training helping out in the cleaning process.

I find her at her normal spot: enclosed inside a chalk-drawn circle, sitting cross-legged in the centre. Her arms were extended out, resting on her thighs, and her hands were open flat; she was meditating – an integral activity in the upbringing of a healer.

I don’t intend on interrupting her state of serenity and, therefore, sit cross-legged just on the edge of the circle and wait for her to acknowledge my presence. I watch intently as her chest rises and falls steadily, almost like a rhythm. Her hair was a dark red that flows down up to her chest. She was slim but being a Healer meant that you had to be physically fit and so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few muscles that protrude out her stomach.

I sit for a couple more minutes until I watch a ghost of a smile hover on her lips and she opens one of her eyes, revealing her purple iris. She was beautifully different than the other girls. I smile back at her and wave.

“Hi, Liam.” She greets in a whisper, closing her eyes again, but now she was visibly smiling.

“Hi,” I respond, “I was just wondering if you know who the cleaner is.”

“You mean Zayn?”

“Is he the cleaner?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I mean Zayn.” I smirk. Zayn. Cool name.

“What about him?”

“Nothing.” I quickly lie. I don’t want to worry her with what I heard the Aquatics were going to do.

“Okay then.” She doesn’t press further and shuts herself down, refusing to let anyone to interrupt her meditation.

I sigh and leave her to it, knowing I’m not going to get anything else from her. But I do know one thing: tonight’s going to be a big surprise for the Aquatics. I chuckle lightly and head towards the exit – not before getting a few death glares from the Necromancers I pass by.

I press my fingerprint on a small indention on the wall by the door and it quickly opens. I walk through and stumble over a few cleaning supplies stashed inside the Janitors closet. See, the S.A.T.H is hidden under the Library, inside a Janitor’s closet found in the basement. It’s the perfect spot to train because with all the technology we have these days, people rarely visit the Library.

I run up the stairs that leads me into the Foyer of the Library. Walking through it, I quickly glance around and hear the familiar silence that occupies the Library. Yep, empty like always. I think as I push through the Library doors and greet the cold, chilly London air.

The Library was located in an isolated part of Western London, so there were barely any people roaming the streets to begin with. Outside the Library was a small café in which my friends and I would always have lunch in, but as Susan proposed we go for Chinese today, I know they won’t be in there and the café itself is isolated, apart from the same guy that mans the cashier every day.

The sun is shining bright and I could hear a flock of birds fly above. The rays of the sun causes the frost, that’s blanketed the London streets, to glisten beautifully. Mists past my lips with every breath I take and I supress a shiver that climbs my spine. I rub my hands together before pulling my phone out my jean pockets. I check and find a message waiting for me:

Go down the street and you’ll find a little restaurant called ‘The Empire’ and you’ll find John and me in there.

Hurry up, John’s talking about not having a girlfriend and I’m getting slightly creeped out.

\- Susan.

I chuckle at the last part of her text because I know that’s John’s not-so-subtle way of hinting to Susan that he likes her. But from what I can tell, she’s still oblivious the lucid fact.

I pull the sleeves of my plain white tee-shirt up and check the time on my golden watch: 12:32pm. I have a good thirty-minutes before tag battle starts. Better not waste any more time.

And with that, I rush down the street, incessantly rubbing my arms to keep them awake and warm.

*~*

Tag battle is systemised: ten members of the picking section will pick a partner, either from their section or our section, and will fight with another member of the ten.So in total, there will be five matches taking place.

I check the board Luke has pinned up to find that Simon is against the infamous Harry Styles: a Pyromaniac known for his merciless assaults. I immediately know that he will pick Louis Tomlinson as his partner – they always do – and them two are a dangerous duo. Somehow, they have managed to combine fire and water and created some sort of Frostfire effect that would burn and chill the victim at the same time. I know we have to keep our wits together if we want to come out victorious.

We gather around the Elementalist Leader, Alexis, and the Psychic leader, Pluto. They tell us the rules which is basically the same as any other fights you see in TV or Films: Fight and survive. Then the first member is called out.

A scrawny Subterra boy with tiny arms and legs. He picks a deceiver I don’t even recognise, so she must be new, too. Then Pluto calls out a broad and intimidating guy who’s an Aquatic and I immediately know he’s going to win this. There’s no way in hell would that Subterra – who barely has any experience – take down a beefy, experienced Aquatic such as this guy. No way. And to exacerbate things for the Subterra boy, he picks a Protector. The odds were definitely against them.

Both boys shake hands, scrawny keeping his resolve strong and firm, trying hard not to tremble, then they both grabbed the black jumpsuits we have to wear, for flexibility and safety, before slowly walking towards the door that would lead them to the environment simulation room.

Normally, the environment simulated was up to the leaders, but as scrawny had a big disadvantage, they let him pick the environment.

The rest of us sits in the Hallway, watching the fight on a projected screen on a wall. The environment scrawny picked was an underground cavern, stalagmites stood erect on the cavern floor and a little stream ran along the edge of the cavern, enabling the Aquatic to make full use of it. Then we see Scrawny appear, along with his teammate, and seconds later the Aquatic appeared, too. They shake hands then Pluto’s deep voice booms for both us and the teams to hear.

“Let’s have a clean fight!”

“Five.”

“Four.”

Both teams get into position. The Aquatic has an arm facing the stream, ready to manipulate it. Scrawny hunkers down onto the cavern floor, and places both his hands on the floor.

“Three.”

Scrawny closes his eyes and the Aquatic smirks.

“Two.”

Anticipation was profuse and thick in the air that you could almost taste it.

“One.”

I take a deep breath in.

“FIGHT!” Pluto yells and both boys begin executing fluid movements with their hands.

There was a loud gushing sound as water begins to rise from the stream, it moves like a serpent and begins circling Scrawny, who is still on the floor making eccentric gestures with his hands. A malicious smile grows on the Aquatics face and he snaps his wrist towards him, sending the serpent-like, jet of water hurtling towards Scrawny. But before it makes contact, the serpent averts its direction and, instead, charges like a bull towards the Aquatics teammate, the Protector, who successfully creates a blue force field, preventing the water colliding with him.

The female Deceiver emerges behind a pile of stalagmites smirking, and I knew what happened: she must have controlled the Aquatic’s mind to change his target, aiming for his team mate instead. Unluckily, his teammate was a protector and blocking a jet of water wasn’t that strenuous.

The Protector closed his eyes and suddenly the force field exploded, sending a wave of force towards the Deceiver, who, due to not having any defensive skills, gets hit and flies backwards, smashing into a group of stalagmites.

Ouch! That must have hurt. I think as I watch her slowly rise, blood gushing down her cheek. But she was smirking, widely, and it seems like she doesn’t even feel any pain. Then her whole body starts to flicker, like a faulty hologram, and soon she vanishes. A cackle echoes throughout the cavern and both boys looks around, bewildered. Scrawny was too focused in his actions to notice, but a ghost of a smile was playing on his lips, so he was aware of what was going on.

This was there plan. It has to be.

Then, out of thin air, more images of the Deceiver appears and circles the two bigger boys. There were no cuts or blood on her tanned skin and her black hair seemed untouched.

Everyone in the room bursts into a round of applause. She’s produced a hallucination for the two boys and now they were boxing with shadows, quite literally. None of those images are her and she’s probably hiding somewhere in the cavern. Clever, clever girl.

She continues to cackle, annoying the Protector. He releases a grunt and his eyes dilute, he pushes his hands outwards and a big force field appears, just for a second, before exploding, smashing the images into fragments.

“Come out where we can see you!” he screams, frustrated.

But another round of laughter is all he gets back. The acoustics in the cavern make it impossible to pinpoint someone’s location by the sound they make. The dark, pitch-black cavern ceiling begins to crumble and a few pieces of debris fall – the works of Scrawny. The protector doesn’t even see it coming and one falls on his head, hard, and he falls unconscious.

“No!” The final standing boy yells as he watches his teammate fall.

His eyes turn back to Scrawny, full of anger, and his breathing is heavy and loud. He raises one of his arms and opens his hands, waiting to receive something.

The water stirs for a second and a small stream of water jumps out and latches itself onto his hand, forming some kind of whip he can grip onto. The Aquatic doesn’t hesitate to lash out and Scrawny is to slow to dodge it, as it hits him hard across the face. The whip, he made out of water, causes a deep cut on Scrawny’s left cheek and crimson-blood begins to flow out and down his cheeks.

Scrawny doesn’t scream until he sees the blood. His screams pierces the cavern air and everyone in the room had to look away, or block their ears, because it was that loud. I frown at the sight of his panicked state but, deep down, I knew he would get hurt; this Aquatic meant business and he wasn’t going to hand a victory over so easily.

“You bitch!” Scrawny squeaks, his voice was low and fragile. His eyes were hungry with revenge as he glares at the Aquatic who was smirking, pleased with the wound he caused.

With a stomp of his foot, a wall of earth emerges from in front of the Aquatic and hit him square in the mouth. He flies a few feet back but manages to execute a flip, mid-air, and land on his foot. He slowly stands up, wiping blood from his split lips before spitting out blood that got inside his mouth.

“Impressive,” he nods his head, “I’m surprised you can manipulate the earth like that.” He smirks, mischievously. “But don’t get ahead of yourself; you’re a Subterra: pathetic and weak.” He spits.

Then, his eyes turns ice-blue and water rushes up from under Scrawny, sending him airborne. The Aquatic raises both his hand and presses them together; the water encloses around Scrawny, keeping him locked inside a ball of water, unable to breath.

I can see Scrawny pounding against the edge of the sphere of water but it wouldn’t break. The Aquatic had a good hold of him and wouldn’t dare let go until he stops breathing. A plethora of bubbles escapes Scrawny’s lips and he continues his relentless, yet useless, pounding.

His eyes begins to slowly flutter and he’s slowly slipping away.

“Let him go!” A feminine voice speaks but it was speaking through the Protector who was facing the Aquatic. His eyes were completely white – a symptom of someone under mind control.

The Aquatic just laughs her off and continues to drown Scrawny, who, by now, has his eyes closed and his movements becomes slower and languid.

And just as I thought it was game over and Scrawny has drowned, the Deceiver forces the Protector to send a force field at the Aquatic, forcing him back on to a wall, hitting his head hard. Both Scrawny and the Aquatic fall to the ground, the only difference is: Scrawny’s eyes open and he gasps for air, coughing out water, while the Aquatics eyes stay shut; and he falls unconscious.

And then the cavern starts to fade, slowly, the hissing sound of the stream slowly disappears and the walls retreat, showing a room made out of mirrors. The Deceiver releases her control of the Protector and he drops to the floor, still unconscious, and quickly rushes over to Scrawny, engulfing him in a hug, consequently soaking her clothes, too.

It was game over: Scrawny and his friend won.

Wow! She managed to take them out without even showing her face. A true Deceiver, indeed. I think as Pluto emerges, alongside Alexis, to congratulate the winning team. Alexis hurries over to the two unconscious boys and snaps her fingers, a gush of wind circles them and when it disappears, so have they. Alexis was a master Aeris and knows how to teleport using the wind – a cool trick that only the Aeris can do.

Well, Scrawny and his friend just proves size doesn’t matter when it comes to a fight. A high portion of survival depends on strategy, not brute force. You can be the strongest Elementalist out there but with a weak intuition you can be the first one to drop dead in a war.

I breathe deeply and process everything as the whole room erupts into a round of applause when the victors appear. I can feel fear slowly seeping into my veins, like poison, corrupting my insides and making my tummy feel weird and funny. My heart begins to palpitate as Pluto steps up onto a platform, his white beard hanging low on his chin, and looks out onto us.

The crowd silences as he raises his hand, asking for silence.

“What a wonderful battle!” he exclaims in a light, playful tone. “Let us hope that the next battle will be just as thrilling.”

Then his brown eyes land on mine and I freeze. He’s a master Deceiver; he can sense my fear, read it, even. A wide smile that shows off his white set of teeth plasters itself onto his face. I look over to Simon, he’s mirroring the same scared expression I hold.

We are not scared to fight. It’s just, our ex-opponents were beginners, like us, not semi-experts who have had more time to train than we have. Louis and Harry are seventeen, so they’ve already had a year of training; we, on the other hand, have not.

I look over to Louis, who’s sitting right next to Harry, their hands laced together. They both wear a dark and evil smile which sends my heart into frenzy, again. They have yet to lose a battle, and I don’t think they plan on losing today, neither.

“The next match will be between,” Pluto says, slowly and tantalising. “Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson against Simon Tramsworth and Liam Payne.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and Louis and Harry jump up, screaming, yelling, high-fiving everyone around them. But me, I feel sick, my muscles convulse and my stomach ties into knots. A lump forms in my throat as gentle hands help me get up and push me towards the platform, where I would greet the pair I’m about to fight; about to lose to.

I just hope I can out-wit them, just like Scrawny did. Otherwise, we’re screwed.


	3. The Oasis

“Liam!” I turn to find Simon running up to me, his face shows no hint of concern and I was kind of wondering how someone can maintain a relaxed state knowing the fact that we are about to duel a pair of advanced Supernaturals. “Hold on. Let’s walk in together, you know, show them that we’re just a good a pair as they are.”

Confidence would probably help our situation; if we show any sign of vulnerability then Harry or Louis will spot it in a heartbeat and take advantage of it. Fortunately, both Simon and I are quite adequate when it comes to pretending and even though I’m on the verge of collapsing on to my knees due to the nerves that is slowly climbing my body, knocking each joint and cartilage off of its place and leaving me unstable, I know that if we have any chance of getting through this, it will through the pretence of hope.

My arms are already itching from the tight material our battle gear is composed of and scratching it only exacerbates the itch itself. I look at Simon, who is walking ahead of me, his head’s still holding high and he wears a smile that’s showing bravery and confidence but the slight tremble of his hand is exposing the façade he’s putting on. He’s flattened his sandy-blonde hair but its dishevelled state only accentuates his sharpened facial features that seem to attract women from every direction.

We reach a large black door that slides open as we approach it. A wave of bright, white light floods our vision and I squint to adjust to the light.

This is it. I think as we pass the door and enter the room – the simulation room. I inhale deeply and close my eyes for a fleeting moment. I imagine myself back in the training room with Luke eyeing my training from behind my shoulders. The image of him smirking at me and my cockiness is enough to drive my legs forward without reluctance.

There, in the middle of the room, dressed in their battle gear which are made of the same itchy material as ours, but the stripes on their outfit is blue, whereas ours is orange, stood Louis and Harry. Both of them are watching us with a sinister smirk hanging upon their faces. Harry’s eyes, albeit it is usually an enticing shade of green, had an ominous sparkle to it; a sparkle that made him look satanic.

Judging by the tightness of our suits and the flexibility of the material, I believe the simulated environment will be a hot one – somewhere tropical or even a desert, maybe.

“Oh, aye, it’s the Payno, Harry,” Louis says through a small smile.

“Pfft,” Harry huffs and shrugs his shoulders. Even though it was just a small action, I’m trying hard not to flinch or show any hint of vulnerability, so I keep my mouth closed and maintain a flat smile; my eyes fixated on Louis as I know he is probably the weaker of the two and the least intimidating one.

“I’ve seen you fight,” Harry starts and I feel the smirk on his face growing even wider, “it’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But you’re still going to lose.”

“Then let’s not waste time and get this thing started with, then.” I say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, someone’s getting feisty,” Louis chuckles and raises one of his hands and erects his index finger. A ball of water immediately forms on the tip of it but I keep my feet planted on the floor and just stare. “I think someone needs to cool down.”

I don’t even get a word in before he sends the orb of water flying towards me. I begin to focus on the ball of water but before I even get the chance to hone in on it, a ball of flame collides with it and it dissipates as steam. I look behind me and see Simon with his hand outstretched. He, too, wears the same smirk Louis is wearing and I can feel the tension growing with every second.

“Oh – so you wanna play, do you?” Harry interjects and snaps his fingers. In seconds his arms’ completely engulfed in flames and he laughs as the suddenness of the event has faltered my resolve and I stare at him with my mouth agape.

Simon remains still as he watches the fire dance on Harry’s skin. It burns with an orange glow that illuminates Harry’s face and makes his eyes seem darker than they are – the emerald green that once occupied those eyes are now gone and replaced with a cold dark green colour that sends chills through me. Even though I am a good metre or two away, I can still feel the intensity of the heat emanate from him and it shocks me how him or Louis don’t seem that affected. I can feel my arms begin to sweat and some form on my forehead as it slowly trickles down to the side of my face.

“You’re not worth it, Harry.” Simon comments with an amused tone of voice.

He’s trying to aggravate him… I never said Simon was one of the intelligent people in the building, but he gets along with his looks and that’s all that matters.

But Harry’s comeback wasn’t in the form of words, but in the form of a jet. A jet of fire he’s blasted from his hands. It pasts and misses me by a few inches but the heat scalds my cheeks and I quickly scatter out the way to avoid the intense heat. The flames roar as it flies towards Simon who’s looking at it with wide eyes. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that.

I focus on it and command it to stop. It does just before reaching Simon and I begin sweating even more as I try to control all the energy Harry is releasing. It’s a lot and I can feel Harry trying to fight against it. I feel my grip on the stream of fire slipping away as I become more tired. Adrenaline is rushing through my body and I’m gritting my teeth to try to stay focused.

“Simon, any help here?” I ask, not looking away.

If it kept on for any longer then I may have just let go, but there is a lift in pressure and I can feel my focus coming back. Simon’s controlling the fire with me.

“Two against one. That’s not fair,” I hear Louis’ sarcastic voice to my right before a ball of ice collides with the side of my face. It knocks me over and the coldness of it lingers on my cheeks. It hurts, a lot, but it’s a relief to have something other than heat cuddling your face.

I hear a scream and raise my head to see Simon flying through the air and landing on the mirror-tiled floor a few feet away from me. His chest is on fire but soon the flames subside and the material looks unaffected – no black, burn marks or scratches or anything. I can hear Louis and Harry give a manic laugh and they sound of clapping hands fill my ears. I rise up to my feet and look at them.

“This match won’t last long,” Louis says between laughs.

“Agreed,” Harry chuckles with a nod of his head.

Simon lets out an anger-filled groan and jumps to his feet. He points at Harry and snaps his fingers. A pillar of flame rises from the spot Harry’s standing in and he is knocked airborne. Simon sends a ball of fire hurtling towards Louis and he dodges with ease.

Return! I command and the flame orb comes back towards me and hits Louis in his back, sending him forwards and onto the floor. I change my gaze to Harry who’s now falling. Push! And just like that, Harry’s small, fragile body is sent rocketing towards one of the walls of the room. A heavy thud follows the impact of his body with the wall and he falls to the floor.

“This match won’t last long,” I repeat Louis with a smirk.

“Agreed,” Simon says tilting his head to the side and smiling at Harry who is rising from the floor with anger ignited in his eyes.

“Funny,” Harry spits, “maybe you’ll find this situation much funnier with your skin set alit.” He raises his hand and Simon and I prepare ourselves for the projectile.

“Stop!” A voice booms over us and we cease action.

We all turn to the sound of the door sliding open. Pluto walks through with a perturbing countenance that informs us of his disappointment. He’s wearing his usual set of black robes that has gold streaks spiralling down the sides of it and on it, he has pinned the Deceiver’s badge: an image of a snake with its tongue poking out. A snake reflects on the slyness and elusiveness a Deceiver must have.

“Save it for the arena,” he chides not looking at any of us. His eyes roam around the room for a second before it settles on Harry. “I want a clean fight; no losing yourself in the heat of the fight. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir,” We all respond but Harry’s tone of voice sounded more urgent and rebellious, like he was sick of Pluto always scolding him.

“Okay then,” he nods his heads and smacks his lips together a couple of times. “The fight will commence in ten seconds. Get ready, and good luck.”

Pluto leaves the room without saying another word. None of us says another word. We all stand there, looking at each other. The only sound I audible to me is that of my heart, beating rapidly as I stare into the eyes of my opponents.

The door closes and the room goes black.

Game on.

-

It’s the sky that appears first. A small spot of blue appears above me and it slowly expands before swallowing the rest of the ceiling. The baby blue colour suggested that we were going to be outdoors but soon rays of sun cascaded down into the darkness and begin to illuminate pieces of foliage that was not there a second ago.

I look around for Simon but trees and thick bushes begin to appear and block my vision. Soon a symphony of bird calls fill my ear and a web of vines and branches greet my face. I push it out the way and start walking forwards. The air is humid and I can already feel my skin sweating. I keep my ears open to see if Simon is calling my name but only sounds of the wilderness echo down my ears.

I am in a tropical forest of some sort.

I walk for a good ten minutes or so before I come across a clearing with a small pond. There are a few small insects gliding gracefully across the surface of the water and the silhouettes of fish appear just under them. I run my hands through my hair, which is now wet from the humidity, before kneeling in front of the pond. I dip my hands in, the water wasn’t cold but it wasn’t too hot and I raise my hands and splash the water across my face. I sigh with relief as I enjoy the sensation of the water dripping down my forehead, cooling me down a little. There are a sundry of flowers next to me with a variety colours—there was pink flowers and blue flowers, green flowers and red flowers. The trees seem to whisper a melancholy song as they sway with the light wind that blows across this small oasis. I walk over to a tree and pull off one of its larger leaves, ambling back to the pond, I dip the leaf in, collecting a pool of water in which I quickly down. My throat relaxes and swallowing becomes a little easier.

I begin to relax a little, even though I know everyone outside the simulation room is watching me through a camera. The nerves placate and I become less wary of my surroundings. I lie back and rest my head amidst the bed of flowers. The sky is clear and the sun is shining so bright that I’m forced to close my eyes, even still, there is no black when I close them, just a screen of red.

I begin to wonder where Simon could be. We didn’t stand too far away from one another when the simulation room went black, so he must not be too far away. Still, the simulation room just appeared, and who knows how far the room actually ‘expanded’. I ponder about him for a little while more until a plopping sound breaks my train of thought.

I shoot up and look around. There was no one, and nothing within my vision, but there are ripples in the water. I stand up warily and begin walking back towards the pond. I look into it and find that all the fish have disappeared and the insects are no longer on the surface. They just…disappeared? I scratch the back of my neck and furrow my eyebrows as I kneel down to get a better view of the pond.

The sweat in my legs and arms begin to make the material of my suit itchy and I endeavour not to relent and scratch it. The water is completely empty and fleetingly dipping my fingers in, I quickly retract them as a scalding sensation courses through my fingers. It’s hot. Very hot. But how?

Then I hear a rustle in the treeline behind me. I turn sharply and look around.

“Who’s there?” I call out. “Simon?”

There is no response.

I stay still and watch for a few seconds. I closely scrutinise the treeline, looking for a silhouette or an outline of a figure; something to indicate someone’s presence. The rustling sound appears again but this time I follow the sound to find a pair of hands resting on the side of a tree, their body hidden behind it.

“I can see you,” I say, exasperated from this pointless game of hide-and-seek. I kneel down and raise the bottom of my suit to reveal a dagger tucked inside of my shoes. I take it out and make it float mid-air, in front of me.

“Come out where I can see you!” I taunt, keeping focus on the dagger while staring at the tree covering the enigmatic figure.

Then came a laugh; a familiar laugh that I had heard not even an hour ago. My eyes widen with my epiphany and suddenly Harry jumps from his spot and fires a ball of flame at me. It comes hurtling at a fast pace and I barely manage to dodge it.

Shoot! I command and the dagger flies towards a running Harry, whose manic laugh silences the sounds of the creatures around us. The dagger misses and collides with a tree trunk. I use my mind to tug the dagger out of the trunk and make it return to me. Just as I was about to turn, a leash made water ties around my ankle and knocks me over. I hit the ground hard and dirt enters my mouth. Its bitter taste mixes with the saltiness of my sweat and I spit out. I look at the thing that’s bound my legs and notice that the arm made of water came from the pond behind me… and Louis is standing next to it with a smug smirk on his face.

“How long can you hold your breath, Payne?” Louis asks, spitting my name out like it is venom.

Before I even get a chance to ask what he’s on about, the leash begins to drag me towards the pond. I twist and try to grab the soil, but I can’t find any grip and I’m getting closer and closer to the pond. I travel at a speed that has the grass cutting my knees and I can feel my suit tear against the friction. Adrenaline courses through me as I take one big breathe before being dragged into the pond.

I’m underwater and the sounds of Louis and Harry’s laugh becomes muffled against the high pressure of the waters. It’s not a deep pond, and I can swim quite adequately. But as I try to swim back up, I cannot break through the surface, there’s something hard preventing my escape.

The water around me begins to cool and I put my hand against whatever it is, as soon as my palm comes into contact an icy sensation sinks into my skin. I panic and begin open my mouth, only to let out the air in my lungs as I scream. Bubbles cloud my vision and my lungs begin to feel heavy. It is then that I realise what’s just happened.

 

Louis’ frozen the top of the pond. Now I’m trapped…and drowning.


	4. Elysium

It’s hard to see with all this effervescence. I can feel the world around me caving in as my eyes incessantly blink open and close and my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. All there’s left is the weight of my body as it begins to sink to the dark pits of the bottom of the pond where not even the rays of the sun reach and the warmth of the world touches.

It’s cold… so cold. My skin becomes ghostly and water fills my mouth as I watch a plethora of bubbles float towards the top, gently and calmly. And before in this moment, I’ve never witnessed just how beautiful yet dangerous water can truly be as the pinpricks of light that penetrate through the frozen surface and enter the water light up the top half of the pond.

Just as my vision clouds and water fill my lungs, suffocating me, and the salty, dirt-filled taste of water buries itself in my taste buds, I see it: a small shiny object glinting against the sunlight. It is lying on the floor not too far away from Louis feet – who was still watching Liam from on top the ice, a malicious grin plastered on his face – and a thin part of it was protruding from the ground. It was the knife I dropped when Louis grabbed my leg with that arm of water.

I muster up all the energy left inside of me and give a final command. I raise my right hand and point it towards my knife and with a swift movement of my arm, I send the knife flying towards Louis. It connects and the blade buries inside Louis’ left arm. Even underwater, with my vision distorted, the crimson stream of Louis’ blood which stains the orange line that runs down the side of his thermal suit is visible and even though muffled, his blood curdling scream is distinct and the victorious, humorous atmosphere they once stood in is now replaced with an atmosphere of agony.

Louis screaming causes a surge in his focus, thus, he unwillingly shatters the sheet of ice he has created to act as my barrier; and, he has unwillingly freed me. I try to swim up but my muscles betray me and it feels like my weight has increased by a tenfold. I just keep slowly sinking.

I finally reach the pond bed and I’m slowly accepting my imminent ‘death’ – that is, if we actually do die in these simulations. But still, I’ll be out the match and it’s a certain game over. A crackling noise fill my ears and I glance back up to see the figures of Louis and Harry running away – but Louis was limping, so I must have done some damage or hit a nerve or muscle. Seconds later, when I can feel my eardrums about to burse against the heavy pressure, as if someone’s taken a sledgehammer and with full force smacked it against my ears, I hear a splash. My eyes close due to fatigue but I can feel gentle hands enclose around my ribs and slowly but surely I can feel myself rising, like an angel is carrying me to salvation.

Within a fraction of a second, everything changes. I can feel the cool wind against my skin; the golden brightness of the sun blinds me; and I regurgitate all the water out my lungs and onto the grass and soil beside me. It’s warm again and my muscles begin to respond as my brain feasts on the large amounts of oxygen I’m vehemently breathing in.

I slowly open my eyes to be greeted with soaking wet blonde hair that makes it look all dirty and unclean, blue eyes regarding me with much concern and worry, and perturbed lips that have droplets of water hang off them; it is Simon.

"Liam, are you okay?" Simon asks with concern as his eyes frantically search my body for cuts and wounds.

I cough and sputter as more water climbs up my throat. "I'll be alright," I cough out, giving him a reassuring smile afterwards.

The soil beneath me is now soaked but the intense heat quickly dries my suit and body and my hair is now left all dishevelled with bits of grass and dirt clinging to the thin threads of my hair. To my left, I see my knife which Louis discarded just before they made their escape, its blade no longer silver but a ruby red that glistens under the sun.

"I heard laughter and quickly ran towards it," Simon informs me, warily looking around for any signs of Louis and Harry, "I heard something shatter and then saw Louis clutching his wounded leg. Good thing I got here when I did."

I nod in agreement. "So where are they now," I inquire as I slowly get up from off the ground. My muscles still scream in agony with every movement I take and I feel very tired, but I'm not giving up.

He shrugs his shoulder and wears a frown that forms a crease between his eyebrows. "They headed that way," he points towards a section of tall trees behind me, its leaves bares an assortment of autumn colours that seems to invite anyone passing by with the warmth and comfort it provides.

My legs moans as I push myself towards the trees, Simon closely following. A horrid smell of rotten leaves and decay follows my approach and the distinct sound of flowing water occupies my ears. The water roars and crashes viciously and I know that the water must be travelling at a speed to create such a loud presence.

"Of course," I sigh, "where else would Louis run off to?" I look back at Simon and frown as he finally realises exactly what and where that water is coming from.

He regards me with wide eyes.

"The river," we both say in unison.

The way across the forest was anything but pleasant. Halfway through, under a skeleton tree that bares no leaves and holds finger-like-branches that stretch across a great length and thins out towards the end, giving it that ominous feeling and elicits a sense of foreboding deep inside of me, lay a decaying carcass of a deer with a large hole glaring at us in which a colony of maggots feasts on its rotting bones and flesh. There are a swarm of flies that fly around the dead beast, making a symphony of buzzing sounds that make my stomach knot in disgust as they delight in the death of an innocent creature.

Even though it’s all a simulation, the smell is so immense that for a second I feel like I’ve spiralled out of fantasy and transcended into a world of reality. Then again, death is an everyday part of life; we hear it all over the news. Even now I can feel a slight tension within our community, like we’ve all fallen on a discordant note, and the strings that hold us together and keep us in harmony have broken and the concept of mending the note into something mellifluous is one that cannot be fulfilled.

I feel the meal I indulged in not over an hour ago begin to climb my throat as I force myself to look away from the deer’s empty black eyes. It looks like all life has been drained from the poor soul. I tread onwards and hear the retching sound of Simon puking behind me. I swallow back the vomit and leave Simon to finish emptying the contents of his stomach on the leaf littered forest floor, mixing the marmalade orange and dark yellow colour of the leaves with the repulsive moss green, bitty mixture of Simon’s vomit.

I halt in my tracks as soon as I see the river. It flows down the centre of an open field, meaning that if Louis and Harry are here and we do go out to investigate then they will have the element of surprise on their side as they have a clear view of the whole landscape from wherever they stand within the forest edge. The field itself was empty; there isn’t a flower to be seen, not an insect buzzing, no trees. It seems like Pluto has designed this field to be the location of our final brawl.

Simon catches up a few seconds later, wiping his mouth with his left hand; his face is much paler than usual and he seems disorientated. I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a perturbed look. He wears a flat smile as he cocks his head to the side and stares back with confounded eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks through a desperate breath.

I shrug. “They’re just playing with us,” I state, “Pluto wants us distracted when we confront Harry and Louis just so they can maintain their perfect win streak.”

We all knew it was true. Pluto has always had his eyes set on Harry – who according to him was a pyromaniac prodigy, setting off jealousy in the hearts of the other pyromaniacs in the centre… Simon included – and he will do anything in his power to show the other masters of the SATH just how talented Harry is.

Thing is: it’s true. Harry is talented, but his cocky demeanour and domineering presence makes it unfavourable for anyone to be acquainted with him – except Louis, of course – and if they are then it’s just to leech a little bit of fame and popularity Harry holds. But if anyone’s to blame then I guess it’s Pluto. He’s the one who placed Harry on a social pedestal and gave him the will to be condescending towards the rest of us.

Now I guess it’s time for us to finally knock him off that pedestal and show Pluto just how good other members of the SATH can be.

“Favouritism much,” Simon sneers.

I give him a reproaching look. “You’re a fool for not expecting that.”

We just stare at each other for a fleeting moment before turning our gaze back on to the field. Our eyes scan the area looking for any sign of Harry and Louis but it all seems quiet. The sun shines bright over the field and casts long shadows across it. If anything was to walk onto the field then it would be pretty easy to spot.

“You think they’re here?” Simon asks, eyes still set forward.

“Of course, this is basically Louis’ version of an Elysium: open field and a large water source. They’re just waiting patiently for us to make the first move.” I confidently elucidate.

“Okay then,” he asks, a little nervous, “so what’s the plan?”

Waiting for them will be like waiting for the snow to melt in the Arctic Circle, so that’s completely pointless. I look around and notice the serenity of the place and I can’t help but snigger as it’s always the most serene of places where blood is predominantly shed. Harry and Louis aren’t one for silence neither. They don’t do serenity and calm; they’re more minions of chaos and destruction. So the silence indicates that they are here… somewhere. And the only way to draw them out is to draw attention to ourselves.

I push my sweaty fringe back to the sides of my head and take a deep breath in. Knowing what we have to do, I look at Simon and grin at him, mischievously. And then, as if Pluto’s read my mind, the wind stops and the trees still, the sun suddenly intensifies and the heat makes my suit even more unbearable as the atmosphere becomes heavy and I feel the pressure building up inside of me. Adrenaline courses through my veins and my head is pounding.

I know what has to happen.

Pluto knows what’s about to happen.

And it has to happen.

 

“We’re going to walk into the middle of that field… and we’re going to end this.”


	5. An Unexpected Meeting

My mind is blurry and hazed. I don’t remember much. I remember hearing voices, then the fields we stood in burned violently and embers of ruby red sparks flew around us. Two figures emerged from the fire, the flames danced playfully upon the skin of one of them—Harry. Then there were balls of fire incessantly flying. The whole forest become a jungle of fire as trees burned and swayed in the distance, grass smoked and charred and the birds flew with wings of fire. I can remember heaving from the smoke as it filled my nostrils and clogged my lungs. The rush of excitement gone and replaced with fear as I stared into Harry’s eyes which sparked with the rage of fire.

Louis was there too. Standing next to him, smirking with contempt. He didn’t do anything for the first couple of minutes. Just watched as Harry threw balls of fire, one after another, and laughed as Simon dodged each one while I endeavoured to deflect them with my telekinesis. It was only when I managed to successfully deflect one straight back into Harry that Louis acted. I remember the loud rumble of something terrible approaching as Louis’ eyes fogged up, hiding away those once-blue eyes. Like snakes it slithered around the field and doused any flames it touched only to reveal the ashen and charred remains of whatever Harry’s flames could mercilessly feast on. It was the same technique Louis used to drag me into pond. I couldn’t control these, no; it was an effective technique that disabled me, rendering me helpless. Steam slowly began to form from it as the heat around us intensified. I remember all of our faces sweating as the beads of sweat glistened against the bright flames around us.

Then Louis commanded one to attack me. It jumped through the air with incredible speed and I remember feeling too tired from deflecting all Harry’s skills to move. So I just stood there and watched it approach with wide eyes, only just closing them when the jet of water was near enough my face. I braced for impact…but nothing came. I opened my eyes and saw Simon, his hands gripped around the chain of water. Then the area where his hands were placed began to steam more violently and I slowly watched as Simon heated up the whole thing and evaporated it. Louis let out a small cry of anger and sent another two flying at us. This time I found the energy to jump out the way while Simon just repeated what he did to the one that went towards him. Even the ground was boiling hot. I saw Harry conjure another ball of fire and before he could throw it, I drew my knife and focused on it, commanding it to dart towards Harry. It hit his shoulder and the blade dug into his skin as his screams pierced the burning sky. He dropped the ball of fire as he hissed and doubled over in pain. He pulled out the knife and glared at me.

I stood back up just as Harry threw back the knife but his effort stood to no avail as I stopped it in mid-air. Simon created a pillar of fire from just under Louis which managed to catch his leg as he tried to jump out of its way. The leg part of the suit he was wearing was sizzling and parts of it began to crumble off like breadcrumbs. The odds were looking to be in our favour. ‘Were’ being the operative word. For that was when one of Louis’ water-snake things managed to coil around Simon’s legs and constrict his arms together, climbing his body until it choked his neck. I remember Simon struggling against it. I ran towards him and endeavoured to pry the thing off but my hands just go through it and I couldn’t do anything. I watch in complete panic as Simon’s movements became languid and he stops squirming. Louis withdrew the water and Simon flopped to the ground, motionless.

I remember being alone.

Simon’s body slowly disappeared. Taken back to the medical ward for medical attention. I still stood in this ring of fire with serpents made of water, facing the two elemental prodigies. I held on for a long time, deflecting more of Harry’s fireballs and dodging more of Louis attacks. I even wounded them a little bit more; hitting Louis’s legs and Harry’s right hand. But in the end: I wasn’t a match for them two. Louis combined all those water serpents to form one big one while Harry shot a large bolt of fire, the serpent collided with it and it went ablaze in fire…for a moment. I watched as water and fire co-existed in harmony as one whirled around the other. I was staring at a serpent of not just water but fire, too.

I was tired and heavily breathing. I just wanted it to be all over. So I stood up, knowing that this fight is over, and faced the serpent with an emotionless countenance. I wasn’t scared nor angry—just tired. As they sent it towards me with speeds that created a roar, I didn’t flinch. Then came the impact and the fleeting moment of intense pain and the feeling of sizzling skin and smell of burning flesh.

Then that was it: game over.

-

“That’s all I remember,” I tell Lunia who was busy attending my wounds.

I am currently in the medical ward. Simon was released before I even woke up due to his injuries not being as severe as mine. Lumina needed more time to heal my burns and apparently my leg muscles were torn upon impact. I couldn’t feel a thing though. It’s a power of a healer or mystic. They can temporarily remove pain it was like an immediate form of anaesthesia—just a numb sensation of can be felt.

“You were pretty beat up, Liam.” She laughs.

“It’s not funny. I think Si and I did pretty well to keep up with them considering they’re a year above us.” I defend myself, looking at Lunia’s hands which are hovering above the burns on my legs. There is a white glow coming from her hands and I see the burns eventually cease to exist.

“Okay, that’s the last of the burns healed up.” Lunia tells me as she gets off the floor and proceeds to the computer, typing in her report of my procedure.

“So can I go?” I ask, slowly starting to feel my legs once more.

Lunia stops typing and is silent for a minute. Her hands are on her hips and her lips are pursed together—a thing she does when she is normally thinking.

“I see no further reason to keep you here,” she starts, “but it’s protocol to keep any injured combatants in the medical ward for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Please Lunia,” I plead, getting up from the bed I was in and approaching her.

She hesitates for a second before continuing. Her read hair still let down, her eyes still look soft and kind. If she had lighter hair she could be a human embodiment of an angel.

“Let’s make a compromise.” Lunia offers. I stay silent to let her know I’m listening. “It’s only Seven-thirty-five at night and if you can stay until nine then I’ll let you go. I just want to make sure you’re a hundred percent okay.”

The offer seemed ideal: I get to leave early and Lunia gets to save her ass. I nod at her and she smiles, returning her focus back on her report. I retreat back to the bed and lie down. The mattress was extremely comfy and if it weren’t for the after effects of healing magic making it impossible for me to feel tired, I’m sure I would have dozed off.

I just lied there for a few minutes, listening to the clicks of keyboard and wondering whether Simon is truly okay—or how he’s taking to our defeat. I then think about Louis and Harry and all the many ways they could show off their new victory or just brush it off like it was child play. That idea makes me a little irked up and I scrunch the sheets of the bed a little to release the anger.

The door suddenly slides open and I shoot straight up to see whether it’s one of my friends checking up on me. This, however, takes an unexpected surprise on me. It was a guy, pushing in a trolley which holds a bucket of water, a mop, a broom and some other cleaning supplies. The guy itself was a boy with raven black hair that was styled into a quiff who had dark brown eyes. His cheekbones was just perfect shaped and his jawline seems like they were chiselled by Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty herself. To say my breath was little taken back would be an understatement.

“Just quickly cleaning up, Lunia,” the guy speaks with a voice as mellifluous as the nightingales. And just like one, I felt drawn to him.

“No problem, Zayn,” Lunia chirps back.

Then the smile I gained from his entrance falters. Zayn—as in the guy whose family lost their powers for supposedly attempting to reveal magic to the mortal world? No… it can’t be. I break from my train of thought as I realise Zayn was looking back at me. Just his gaze alone makes me effortlessly smile and I get up off of the bed and walk towards him. He was wearing a blue overall, like how a janitor would normally look but even in such a hideous uniform, he stood out.

“Hi, I’m Liam,” I greet him and extend my hand.

Zayn takes it with a smile. “I’m Zayn, nice to meet you.”

I just smile even wider and look at those eyes once more. They are so rich and earthy like oak. I’m so engrossed in them that I forget I’m still holding his hand and it isn’t until Zayn releases an uncomfortable cough that I snap out of my hypnotic state and release him.

“I’m so sorry, I-I…I-”

“Excuse Liam, he can get a little distracted,” Lunia steps up for me and pulls me away. I make a mental note to thank her later.

“I’m sorry…again,” I repeat all flushed and flustered.

“You’ve said, mate,” Zayn chuckles and all it does is make me feel more embarrassed. “Anyway, on to work.”

Zayn begins to pull out his cleaning supplies and starts to mop the floor while I just sit on the bed and try so hard not to just stare at him like a creep. Then I remember the reputation he holds and my curiosity gets the better of me.

“I heard you have no magic, is that true?” I inquire earnestly.

Zayn freezes for a moment and his shoulders tense. “I’d rather not speak about that,” he says through a small, broken voice and a sudden feeling of guilt courses through me and weighs me down. “Or have you make fun of me because of it,” he adds, suddenly continuing to mop the floor.

I look up at Lunia who is frowning at me and that only makes me feel worse. So it’s true. He has no magic. I then think of what he said last and realise that he’s been made fun of every single day working here and he can’t get out of it because his family owes it to the elders here; it’s their family’s punishment for disobeying the golden rule of any supernatural being: never expose magic.

“So you’ve just been in a tag battle?” Zayn suddenly speaks, breaking the silence.

I perk up suddenly. “Uh, yeah, I have.”

“You lost then, considering you’re here?” He smirks, and if it was as if the last minute didn’t happen.

“Yeah,” I say, scratching the back of my head. Oh gosh, I can’t embarrass myself in front of him. Think, Liam! “But I let them, you know—was tired of winning so I let them off easy.”

Lunia scoffs behind Zayn while he chuckles. “Whatever you say, mate.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what happened,” Lunia says with total sarcasm and the smirk on her face makes me glare at her. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “I’m going to go fetch the report and hand it in to the Elders. Won’t be long.”

Lunia walks through the doors and as it closes I begin to feel really awkward. Zayn just continues to mop while I sit here, staring at the blank white wall of the ward.

“What’s your power then?” Zayn asks, breaking the silence yet once again and I’m ever so thankful because I am terrible with conversations.

“Uh, I’m a psychic who has the power of telekinesis,” I tell him.

Zayn smiles. “That’s cool. I’ve always wondered what power I would have got if my family weren’t stripped of their powers.”

“You mean you were born without them?”

“Yep,” he says through a hoarse voice, an attempt to cover the sadness that’s slowly toppling him over from the inside.

I can feel the sorrow diffusing through the air and I know I should quickly change subject. “Wanna see my power?”

Zayn nods. I get up from the bed and focus on a bottle of glass cleaner that’s in his trolley. Up! I tell it and it does so. I watch as Zayn smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle. There is a sparkle of joy in them and I know that I want to make that sparkle stay forever, if I could. It is an image that could never be removed from my mind because my mind loves to keep beautiful things and this sight in front of me was just that. Absolutely beautiful.

“That’s so cool,” Zayn comments excitedly like a child who has woken up on Christmas day.

I notice Zayn has placed the mop to lean against the wall behind him. I turn my focus on that and bring behind his back, I nod my head towards Zayn and the tip of the mop’s handle pokes Zayn’s back. He immediately jumps and laughs as he realises what’s happened.

“Mate, you got me,” he laughs and it makes me laugh.

It goes like this for a while: me, showing Zayn different things I could do with my power and him laughing and giggling and smiling at anything I do. The awkwardness I felt at the start has completely gone away and replaced with a bubble of happiness I never want to pop.

The door opens and Lunia comes back in. Zayn and I look at her with guilty faces and the cleaning items I was juggling mid-air without touching drops. She crosses her arms and looks at us with an amused expression.

“Boys, this a place of profession, not a playground.” Lunia chides.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just wanted to show Zayn my powers.”

“It’s okay, just put it all back on the cleaning trolley.”

Zayn does so and tells Lunia that everything’s done anyway. He walks towards the door and just before leaving he turns back and looks at me, there was an emotion, a motive, hidden words written across his face but I cannot understand it. Then he leaves without a word.

“Bye, Zayn...” I mutter under my breath and that bubble of happiness has just been popped.

“What did you say?” Lunia asks as she sits on her desk once more.

“Nothing,” I tell her, putting on a fake smile and lying back down on the bed.

I try so hard to forget about him, but everything just goes back to Zayn. Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, that’s all my mind can now think of. That’s when it clicks and my mind flashes back to the time I first hear of his name: when two aquatics were planning to play a prank on Zayn.

“Damn it,” I shoot up from my bed, panic slowly settling into my body. “Lunia I need to go!”

She looks at me with a perturbed face, “where?”

 

“I need to help Zayn.”


	6. New Acquaintance

“What do you mean?” Lunia asks with a concerned tone of voice. Her eyes narrow which make her normally calm pair of eyes pierce with seriousness.

I shake my head, looking at the clock, I clench my jaw as I watch another minute pass by. I don’t have time for this. “Lunia, please, just trust me.” I plead, my voice a hushed whisper holding back my urge to just jump and dart out the door.

It’s abnormal for me to act like this. It’s just—there was something about Zayn that peaked my interest, like an untapped purpose inside me has been exhumed by his presence. I feel the sweat form as the sound of the clock ticking rings alarm bells inside my mind. I’m shocked by how I’m responding at the potential of a stranger getting harmed. I look and feel so desperate.

Lunia looks at the clock. It’s another ten minutes before our arranged time comes but still, as she bites her lips and fumbles with her fingers, I know she’s considering to permit my leave. She releases a sigh and hangs her head. Lunia points to the door as if to signal me to go.

“Why are you acting like this over someone you’ve just met?” she asks, giving me a fleeting look of curiosity.

I shrug. “It’s how I am. If you know someone might be in danger you wouldn’t hesitate helping them—whether they be a stranger or someone dear to you.” I say sternly, leaving the fact that I wanted to get to know Zayn more.

Lunia nods in comprehension and she nods her head towards the door. I don’t hesitate to leap out my bed and rush out of it. I run down hall after hall, past students and elders, with the wind buzzing in my ears and the feeling of adrenaline pumping through me. I reach the door that leads to the S.A.T.H’s training hall and I slam through it. I hunch over and rest my hands on my knees panting. My eyes quickly survey the hall and only find some supernaturals training. I stand back up and lean on the door with my heart beating fast and my breath heavy.

“Where are you?” I utter as I exhale.

“Who, my dear boy?”

My head shoots to my right and sees a lady outfitted in a long black dress that reaches the ground and covers her feet. There was black smoke faintly emanating from her dress. Her long grey hair and innocent smile that stretched across her cheeks are her defining features—it was Morgana, the necromancy elder. Everyone knows her and that smile; don’t let it fool you, necromancy is anything but innocent—it’s magic built to kill and manipulate the dead and it can deliver the most excruciating and unpleasant methods of dying.

“N-no one,” I stutter, intimidated by her presence.

“Are you sure?” She pushes, tilting her head to reveal her face under the cascading moonlight that funnels through the tiny windows of the hall. Her face looks so young—no bags, no wrinkles but she is over fifty years of age. Whenever she speaks, it never fails to attract listeners. It was so mellifluously seductive that you just can’t help but listen and bask in it.

Some say she uses that voice to attract mortal men and then drain their life essence to stay young, just like an incubus, but, then again, there are thousands of rumours that circle Morgana. So who knows if any of it is real? This just adds to the mystery that cloaks Morgana Shoal.

She steps closer towards me and I can begin to smell her. It was intoxicating—a scent I’ve never smelt before. I shiver as her cold breath glides over my cheeks. I close my eyes to try not to look at her directly.

“I’m sure,” I say quickly, gulping the fear that’s crawling up my throat back down.

She laughs and I know it’s because of how I’m reacting to the sudden infiltration of my personal space. “He’s in the pool, my dear one.” She informs me and I open my eyes. It is only then I feel the numb sensation in my arm. I glance down at it and see one of her fingers touching it, with a dark, long nail with a knife-like-edge digging into my skin.

“Can you stop that?” I ask with an emotionless tone of voice. She smirks and tilts her head at me.

“Oh my, you’ve only just met this boy and you’re already chasing.” She then releases a manic laugh that drives chills straight through me. I gulp as I use my other arm to push her fingers off me. As soon as they’re gone and I see the small trail of blood leave the site her nail punctured through, I begin to feel my arms again.

“I don’t think Elizabeth will like the news of you being gay, sweetie.” She adds and I look at her perplexed.

“What do you mean?”

“You see, a necromancer just needs a drop of a victim’s blood to see their memories and understand their thoughts. I’ve seen what happened this morning when you helped Elizabeth control her powers. She looked at you with pure admiration, Liam. Knowing you, I know you don’t want to upset her or anyone, in fact.” Morgana begins to walk backwards until she’s out the beam of moonlight and the shadows embrace her welcomingly.

“Morgana, wait!” I yell for her, pushing myself off the wall and running towards her, only…she was gone. I stand in the shadow, shocked from what I’ve just heard. I’ve kissed her brother, her brother likes me – or did – and now she likes me? A wave of guilt crashes through me until Morgana’s voice echoes in the darkness around me.

“He’s in the pool and it looks like he’s in trouble.” I look around me to find Morgana but she’s nowhere to be seen. The words then register into my mind and I quickly run back out the door and head towards the pool.

As I get closer, sounds of laughter and heavy water rushing fills my ears but there is sound of someone trying to cry for help being muffled as they gag and choke seconds after. I fear the worse and run faster. I see the blue doors that lead to the pool and barge through them.

Morgana was right.

Zayn is on the floor, arms in front of his face, protecting it from the jets of water two aquatics are shooting at him. They’re laughing in pure amusement and anger snaps inside of me. I walk closer and the boys notice me. They don’t stop, instead, they widen their smile and make the jet of water faster and stronger.

“Hey!” I shout at them but they ignore me. I focus on the boys and extend my arms. Immediately, the two boys rise from the floor and I send them flying back and into the pool.

Zayn is coughing and coughing on the floor, his whole body soaked. I rush over to him and hunch down. The boys resurface and look at me in fear.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I say, containing the rage that’s dying to burst through.

They nod furiously and swim as fast as they can, climbing out the pool and running out the door—not before one of them slips on the wet floor and bangs their head.

“Come on, idiot!” the one who made it to the door yells at him and begins to drag him by the feet out the door.

I would laugh but I’m far too concerned about Zayn. I stay silent as Zayn remains crouched on the floor, his eyes regarding some spot just past the pool. He looks distant. I start to feel uncomfortable with the silence that’s screaming down my ears and my pulse quickens as I watch Zayn lie there. The water sticks to his face and makes it glisten under the moonlight. His hair is soaked but it makes it look slick and still it suits Zayn.

I sit next to him and watch the pool. There are tiny ripples that push against the small waves and stretch out towards the edge of the pool. The water now calm and gentle, reflecting the moonlight to the other parts of the room which makes everything feels so serene. The silent boy beside me spawns an unprecedented feeling of joy from within me and it only peaks my curiosity even more, but seeing him in this position—knees huddles together and arms hugging it towards his chest as his head lies on its side with his eyes lost somewhere, as if trying to find a memory or a lost toy that once gave him joy—it makes me want to be that memory or that lost toy. I want to be a source of joy for him.

“You know,” Zayn breaks the silence, his voice broken and low, “this isn’t the first time this has happened to me.”

My heart sinks and I have the urge to place my hand on his back or shoulder to comfort him, but I relent. I don’t think he wants anyone else violating his personal space.

“Why, Li?” he asks, finally turning his head to face me. His eyes, the same pair that was full of hope and joy that I saw not an hour ago, was now dark and I couldn’t see his pupils. It was full of despair and I couldn’t do anything but just stare at him. “Am I a bad person?”

“No!” I finally speak, shaking my head furiously at him. “I’ve just met you and I think you’re one of the most funny and animated person I’ve met. There isn’t a morsel of doubt in my mind that if I knew you fully, you’d be my best mate.”

The word lingers on my tongue. Mate. Yeah, that’s what I want—to be his mate. A ghost of a smile slowly creeps on Zayn’s face and that makes me feel a little better inside. He sits up and scrutinises me. I begin to wonder what he is doing and more importantly what he’s thinking. I choose not to say anything and let him continue. As his eyes finally settle on mine, I smile.

“Thank you,” he says lightly and I don’t know if that’s for saving him or saying he’s not a bad person or saying that he would have been my best mate if I got to know him, but I’d like to think it’s because of all those reasons.

“You’re welcome,” I say light-heartedly and he pokes at my arm. The uncomfortable silence has now dissolved along with the events that happened a few minutes ago and the pool stills as if harmony has returned to the world.

I look at Zayn and realise that he’s still soaking and the pool hall is freezing cold. I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly as I have an internal battle with myself whether to help prevent Zayn from getting hypothermia.

“Uh, Zayn,” I start, slowly, still unsure of how I’m going to approach this, “do you, uh—I mean, well, uh, do you want to take your clothes off—”

“What?” he cuts me off with wide eyes and I begin to shake my head and hands fervently.

“No-no! That’s not what I meant! It is cold and you’re soaking and I just… uh—my mum told me to always remove wet clothes when it’s cold to prevent hypothermia. So, I just thought that—”

“Are you always this clumsy with words?” he teases, with an amused countenance and a cheeky smile.

Only with you, apparently. I quickly think of an excuse, “Not usually, I think it’s from sitting on this wet floor.” I feel the back of my trousers and it’s all wet. Zayn laughs and just hearing the sound of his laughter makes me giggle like a child. I suppose his happiness is a disease I’m susceptible to as that bubble of joy I once felt when I was with him has re-emerged inside me.

“’kay then, mate.”

He keeps his clothes on and I continue to worry. “So… your clothes?” I press on, pointing to his shirt that’s clinging onto his chest showing a sleek and slim outline of his body. I absentmindedly bite the bottom of my lip as he looks down at it and pads his shirt down revealing an outline of his nipples causing my whole body to tense.

“That desperate to see me naked, huh, Li?” even though he means it as a joke my whole body freezes and the perverted and sexually imaginative parts of my brain delight in the idea of seeing him naked. “It’s okay, I’ve finished my cleaning rounds anyway. I’ll head home now and take a nice hot shower and drink a nice cup of hot chocolate to warm me up.”

I frown at the idea of him leaving but he does need to get out of those clothes. I nod and we get up from the floor. At that moment, I’ve decided that I want to meet him again and maybe become his friend.

“Do you clean every day?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?”

“I think you could use some company when you clean,” I tell him and Zayn smiles widely.

“I think I could do with some, too,” and now I’m smiling.

“I would hug you goodbye but I don’t want to get you wet, mate,” Zayn tells me and I internally frown because I would love for him to hug me. I keep my face the same and just laugh so he doesn’t see that I may be attracted to him.

“Well, you can hug me tomorrow then, yeah?” I ask part joking and part truthfully.

Zayn arches his brows and nods. “Definitely will.”

My hand clenches in excitement and I suppress a squeal. We start to walk towards the door, side by side, and as he says his goodbye and I say mine, I capture the image of him departing with that mile-wide-smile on his face—a smile that I gave him. A feeling of achievement courses through me and I relish the moment.

I’d like to keep that smile on his face for a lot longer.


	7. School's out for murder!

I awake at sunrise, where pinpricks of light peak through the small gaps of my blind and funnel into my room. I climb out of my bed, feeling recharged and refreshed, and look outside the window. The sky is clear of clouds and the sun shines its bright yellow glow onto the patches of leftover snow that settled in only just yesterday; however, there is still a lot of black, mucky slush covering the street.

I retreat from the window, content about the weather, and head towards my drawer, passing my collection of ‘Star Wars’ DVD and the stack of comics on top of my desk. My mum always tells me to read more to keep the cogs in my brains functioning but I hate books, so I’ve found a compromise: comics and heavily illustrated books. She rolled her eyes the moment I showed her what I’ve read but complain my mum no longer did. I grab the closest thing I find in my drawer and slam it shut. A blue and red button up and brown khaki trousers.

I raise my arms up and dip my head to take a quick sniff of my armpits. The stench of body odour quickly travels up my nostrils and chokes my airways and I cough in disgust and decide to take a shower. Quickly walking back to my drawer to pull out a towel, I leave my room and head for the bathroom. As I do, my mum passes by me, carrying a basket full of laundry.

“Liam, honey, what have I said about you walking around the house being only in your boxers?” she asks sternly, giving me an exasperated look.

I roll my eyes. “I’m going in the shower, mum,” I respond, raising my arm that’s holding the towel before continuing my walk to the bathroom.

I close the bathroom door shut and bolt it close. Hanging my towel on the rack, I turn the shower on and shoot my arm back as ice-cold water assaults it. Once the water becomes warm and bearable, I take my boxers off and hop in. The heat welcomes my body, making me sigh in content as the water trails down my back. I quickly scrub my body with soap and apply shampoo, thinking of what happened last night with Zayn and how we promised to meet up today after training (and the hug he promised to give me), then I wash it all off, scrubbing my scalp furiously as bubbles of shampoo surf down my body.

Feeling all clean, I jump out and dry myself. Once again, Zayn manages to infiltrate my mind and the image of him soaked, just like I was, with wet clothes clad tight to his slim body appears in my mind. The image makes me smile because there is no denying Zayn is attractive—I mean, he could be the male Aphrodite.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I run back to my room and put on some clothes. I turn the television on and I end up listening to some news about a woman being murdered just outside her home as I dry my hair. Nothing of it really captured my attention until the news reporter elucidated how they found her body: lifeless, in the term that her pupils were pure black and her skin was hugging her skeletal structure. My eyes widen and I turn the hair dryer off. Quickly turning around, I gasp as the news station fleetingly showed images of the woman. Her veins were large and blue and black lines ran down her neck. It is true, her eyes are completely black and her mouth is open a little, suggesting that whoever killed her did so as soon as she turned around to face her assailant and as she gasped, they murdered.

I continue to watch intently as the reporter informs us of some other things like how they are not sure how the woman died as of yet due to the black eyes and enlarged veins complicating her whole autopsy. If any other Supernaturals are watching this, then they, just like I do, know how she died. The black lines. The black eyes. The veins looking like they were poisoned. It’s all common symptoms of necromancy.

It was a Necromancer that killed her.

This is big news as killing mortals with magic is a big no-no in the Supernatural society. It is a big rule, almost as big as the ‘never expose magic’ thing. I wonder if anyone else is watching this. Could I be training with a murderer today? The thought sends chills through me and I close my eyes to try to repel that thought. Whatever it is, I need to stay out of it. I’m sure an Elder will be watching this and will act on it immediately.

There is a knock on my door. I turn the TV off and it opens with my mum poking her head through the small gap she made.

“Liam, I made your breakfast, it’s on the counter. I’m off to work now, I’ll see you tonight,” she tells me and I nod.

I turn back to face the mirror. I can see the worry clouding my hazel eyes but I choose to ignore it and carry on with drying my hair. I hear the house door slam shut over the loud whoosh of the hair dryer and I turn it off. Applying wax to my hair, I style it into my normal quiff, fixing a few strands of hair every once in a while.

Once I’m done, I rush into the kitchen to find a plate of cheese toasties sitting on the counter just as my mum said. I look at the clock and see that it is nearly nine-o’clock. I’m going to be late. Finishing my breakfast within seconds, I dash to the door, picking up my bag along the way, and rush out into the streets.

Even though the sun’s out, it is freezing and I end up running back into the house just to get my grey hoodie. My feet crunch into the thawing snow as I quickly walk down the road. As I cross, a school bus drives past me and the sounds of chatting students and laughter makes me curious: I wonder how it feels to be a normal kid going to a normal school. I’ve never spent a full day indulging in Pythagoras’ theorem or fully analysed a Shakespearian play. Our school focuses on developing and honing our skills and power.

Life would be so much simpler if I could not worry about my powers.

As I approach the Library, I notice a large congregation of people. Among them is Susan and Simon, who looks pretty happy considering we got beat yesterday. I run towards them, careful not to slip on the icy path, curious of what’s going on.

“Hey, Susan,” I call out.

She turns her head and smiles as she sees me approach her. “Liam, guess what!”

“What?”

“School’s closed for the day!”

That takes me back a little as the Elders rarely ever close the school. I find it hard to believe until Susan drags me to the front of the crowd where a large sign was pasted on the Library door.

“To whom it may concerned,” I begin to read it out loud, “due to recent events that have found its way into the media, we have had to cancel today to run some investigations. Everything will once again commence as normal tomorrow.”

It seems like I was right: the Elders must have watched the news and saw the murder of that woman. I look back at an extremely happy Susan and then to a more disappointed Simon—he had another tag battle today and I’m sure he was hoping to redeem himself.

“You up to do something?” Susan inquires.

My initial response is to accept but something catches my eye—it was Zayn, in the back of the crowd, trying to keep his distance from the rest of us as he solitarily delighted in the news. I notice some of the people stealing him disgusted and horrified glances and I tense a little because he doesn’t deserve it.

“Actually, I can’t. Mum wanted me to do chores tonight and I think I might go get them done now,” I lie. Susan smiles and Simon nods, both believing the lie I just delivered them, before walking off together.

I push my way past the crowd and walk towards Zayn. He immediately catches my sight and smiles once more. Something inside me flutters because his smile is truly beautiful and I wish he would smile more often. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him out of his work uniform and already I can tell that Zayn has a keen sense for fashion. A denim jacket over a white shirt with tight blue jeans. I endeavour not to bite my lip but damn he looks good in those clothes.

“Hey, Li,” his voice was soft and welcoming and the nickname he gave me rolls off his tongue so naturally that I smile back at him.

“Hey there.”

“Can you believe it?”

“I know, a day off!”

His eyes seem to wander a little and he begins to sheepishly kick at some snow. “So, how are you spending it?”

Okay, be brave, Liam, you can do it. Just ask him if he wants to go to town with you. I muster up my strength and take a deep breath in. “Actually,” I start slowly, “I was wondering if you want to do something with me?”

His face contorts into one full of shock, and then happiness, and then confusion. “Me?” he asks, completely baffled, “Why?”

I shrug. “Well, we promised to hang out today and seeing as school is closed, I don’t want to break that promise.” I tell him earnestly, “plus you kinda owe me a hug.” Oh, and I really want to spend my time in your presence.

He laughs at that and I giggle back. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

The smile he has widens so much that crinkles form by his eyes and his tongue pokes out a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”


	8. Just Mates

The snow moans under the pressure of Zayn’s worn-out boot with frazzled laces touching the blanketed ground and I worry about the possibility of him tripping over if he does not tie it, but the lopsided grin that stretches across those olive-blessed cheeks and the wild spark those coffee eyes elicit makes me realise that Zayn’s always one for living life to the full. Maybe it’s because his background prevents him from doing so.

The sun’s strength fades as clouds of grey dominate the sky like raging lions among a crowd of fragile gazelles and the wind coolly blows cold whispers across the thawing ground and over frozen figures that walk warily atop the icy pavements. Where hats and gloves are a man’s best friend, fending off the dangerous bites of the winter chill. A boy with no hat and no gloves and black hair stylishly mussed up, with white teeth nervously scraping along chapped lips, provides a sense of warmth between the small gap we’ve created.

I ignore the sudden ache of something that feels like adoration when he shivers and his hands brush smoothly against the material of my shirt that covers my broad shoulders, and when he mutters ‘sorry’ with a lopsided grin and faces ahead, exposing those defined cheekbones that tantalises me as the urge to touch it – with my tongue or hands, I don’t mind – builds up, I withhold the itch at the back of my throat and swallow the words I’m scared of saying.

“It’s a bit cold, innit?” Zayn says, rubbing his tiny hands furiously up and down his arms.

I wonder whether my hands will fit smoothly atop Zayn’s—like a puzzle that’s been completed or stars finally forming into constellations. Once again I force myself to repeat the hurtful but truthful mantra consisting of ‘we’re just mates’ inside my mind that’s recently been occupied by images of spider-like eyelashes that brood over gentle eyes and a warm smile holding a set of perfectly white teeth. It is just like an image I’d once found inside one of my sister’s vogue magazine when I was snooping around her room trying to find her collection of romance films.

I give a light hearted laugh and he returns with an annoyed look filled with a small frown and creased eyebrows that knit together and form wrinkles amidst the expanse of his tan-coloured forehead. I point a gloved finger at his clothes and jokingly utter, “You’re not really dressed for the weather, though, are you?”

His response was a weak attempt of a snort as the cold assaults him once more and chokes his throat so that nothing escapes those candy lips I’ve been dreaming of in my sleep last night.

“In my defence,” he retorts back immediately, “I thought we would be inside today, you know, where there’s heaters and warm air and shit like that. I didn’t really suspect a murder would come out of the blue and that I’d end up spending my day with you.”

Maybe it was the ice cold wind slicing across my ears but I swear I hear an ‘I’m glad it happened, though’ escape Zayn’s mouth.

I smile at the innocence oozing out of his personality and quickly shrug off my hoodie, leaving me only in the long-sleeve plaid shirt I picked up this morning. Zayn turns back towards me with quirked eyebrows and lips pressed flat into a line.

I extend my arm and look into those quizzical eyes, which never fails to soothe any concerns and worries inside of me, and hold out my hoodie. “I can’t have you freezing to death,” I say. The ‘I’ve only just met you’ is lost along with the buzz of a taxi racing down the street and the laughter of a boy creasing at his friend who has just slipped on the ice.

Zayn’s lips shift upwards into somewhat of a smile – a code I can’t decipher the meaning of – and he takes the hoodie, gentle fingers brush smoothly across the top of my knuckles and I bite my lip against the corner of my mouth, picking the dead bits of flesh, as I fight against the tide of something that feels like electricity running up my hands.

“Thanks,” he mumbles with a sudden softness to the flick of his tongue and his eyes speak of untold feelings as tiny flecks of oak brown whisper stories of ‘I’m glad you don’t hate me, too’ but I shrug it off as my imagination feeding my hopeful thinking.

The hoodie slides into his slim figure with ease and it hangs loose just below the hip where the waistline rests comfortably just beside his crotch. Grey looks good on Zayn: it adds contrasts to the golden skin that hides underneath the linen. The shivers stop immediately and the smile that tugs on Zayn’s lip is enough to comfort the butterflies that swish and somersault inside the pit of my stomach.

I look ahead and find the blinding lights and the roar of the city greeting us with the smell of smoke and ash. Even in winter, London reeks of fumes and gas. An industrial barren with tiny patches of greenery. Still, with the bustle of the people contently walking from here-to-there with no care and worry while cars drive through jammed roads and cough smoke into the poisoned air, I don’t think I’d trade it for anything. There’s just something about the city that draws me in.

Especially now I know someone like Zayn lives here.

I didn’t notice until I feel the thud of bone against my shoulder that Zayn’s closed the distance between us and our hands begin to incessantly slide across each other, sparking those unfamiliar feelings inside my veins. The sudden closeness pulls at my lips until I’m smiling wide and I feel the crinkles by my eyes and like cells all over my body are dancing to the silent song of Zayn’s touch.

“So what we gonna do, li?” He turns so that his mouth is just inches from my cheeks where a slit of pink appears at the spot his hot breath kisses.

I don’t turn to face him, in fear that I won’t have the will to hold back my heart’s desire in finding out what this unknown feeling is – like a mix between falling from a high place and hitting your body so hard on a concrete pavement that it knocks all the wind from out your body – and do something I might regret.

“Well,” I start, licking my plump lips, feeling the ragged edges of rough skin the cold killed, “I can certainly do with something to eat.”

His eyes crinkle and a soft laugh escapes his mouth. He nods sheepishly and a smile that feels a little like ‘you’re unbelievable’ appears. I accept the possibility that the feeling inside tickling my ribs could be something more than just platonic and his crooked smile and ethereal eyes can fill the void that’s been gnawing inside.

We reach the town, welcoming the hazy fog that comes along with it, and head towards the centre. I notice our fingers are still within inches apart and I have to beg for mine to stop as it inclines towards the warmth that is seeping out of Zayn’s relaxed body. It is only then I can properly smell Zayn and it’s a mix of strawberries on the first day of harvest and that musky layer of cheap perfume. However, the hoodie I gave him still bears my scent and I relish the smell of my Armani cologne mixed in with his natural smell.

“What do you feel like eating?” I ask, scratching the small crevice of my neck.

Zayn folds his lips in so that the tip of his tiny, poked out tongue exposes itself. He scratches at a recently formed stubble on the base of his chin and I wonder what it feels like to kiss him along his jawlines. How my tender kisses can tense those chiselled cheeks and relax those tense jaws and I cough feverishly to stop the blood flowing to the area just south of my chest. “You know what,” he says like he has just reconciled with his inner child, “I’m up for some Chinese, Payno.”

A disguised laugh booms past my lips, hiding the squeal that’s stuck in the constricted airways of my throat, at the nickname. It is then when those sea-toffee eyes meet mine and I feel stupid for acting childish as I playfully punch him in the arm while flashing a view of my teeth with the lopsided grin he gives me.

“Chinese it is then, aye.”

I know of a small place that looks a little run down with its rough exterior where white paint flakes off the brick walls and the sign desperately hangs on to a large E as it’s on the verge of falling, where it reads ‘mperor’ instead of ‘Emperor’, where small rusty tables are laid out outside accompanied with breaking chairs in which men and women dressed in suits and dresses hurryingly chow down their orders in order to get back to work before traffic gets worse, where the taste of the food means more than the aesthetics of the plate and the restaurant.

The snow around town is scarce but the lucky spots that do host some hold snow as black as the coal that burns in the chimneys leaning over the horizon. Zayn and I push through mass crowds of men and women desperately trying to reach their destination as we constantly bump shoulders into harder and careless ones.

We reach the shop and heavy breathing fills our ears. I lean against the breaking wooden door frame leading into the shop and catch my breath. Zayn looks up at me with those baby pink lips parted slightly and begins to chuckle in amusement with the sounds forever resonating in the shell of my ears.

Roasting pork and raw fish along with the distinct scent of soy sauce overcomes our senses and I close my eyes and take a deep sniff, relishing in all the heavenly aromas that diffuse out from the shop, opening them again to that welcoming and homely smile that Zayn always offers me, the same one that restarts my heart and causes my lungs to forget how to expand.

We both look at each other, a hurricane of unspoken thoughts and withheld emotions, and let the comfortable silence devour us as smiles and fragile eyelashes flutter against the wind that glides past us.

The shop itself is silent with it still being quite a while before lunch comes around. Zayn and I walk to the desk and greet the old woman with wrinkles littering her pale face and the emotionless flat line of her lips which never twitch or shift upwards into a smile. She always handled the counter while a more muscular man worked the heavy grills in the back of this make-shift restaurant.

“Ca’ I take yo’ orda?” She speaks with a heavy Chinese accent in her tongue.

Zayn nods fleetingly before carefully reading the menu. There’s a sparkle of joy burning in the depths of his iris and the flecks of brown become earthier, like coffee beans, under the dull fluorescent light above us.

I step closer towards him and gently place my hand on the nape of his neck, which feels so smooth and warm against the skin of my palm—it feels so right but… I dunno. Does he even like boys? Zayn turns at the contact, he looks at my hand before he does to me and the corner of his lips tugs upwards into a small smile. His eyes speaks with a thousand words that don’t seem to reach me and as if my heart wasn’t already beating erratically, he leans his head a little so that it rests on my arm and the warmth flows through my skin and into my bones, and I wonder if I’ve been holding my breath for the past 17 years.

And I know, now, that maybe I will never live a normal life as a normal boy who goes to normal school and meets a normal guy or girl and falls in love normally, that this boy with hair perfectly suiting him in any style he puts it in and cheeks so defined yet so innocent and hands so gentle and calm— that he can maybe bring me that one thing any other normal boy has: the feeling of falling in love –

And it’s cheesy and cliché and that these are elements and sentiments one would normally attach to a tragic young lover trying to court their significant other in one of the pages of those worn out books young teenagers read to hope that one day a real life tragic lover could court them in the same loving and overly romantic way, but I feel that way. Love at first sight.

To this boy. This, out of the blue, unexpected, crazy yet enigmatic boy who’s standing here, in front of me, with pouted lips and furrowed eyes, fighting with himself over the decision of chow mein or curry. This is the boy I’m falling for.

And I’m his tragic lover.


	9. A Winter Wasteland

“It’s cold, Leeyummm,” Zayn shivers with an innocent tremble that has me gulping down my own shiver—but not because of the wind, but the unprecedented joy his smile births within the depths of me. A sublime feeling injected by the nimble fingers of an artisan surgeon. He makes me feel like I’m not in my body and at the same time that I belong in my body…next to him.

Zayn’s trying to eat his curry, my hoodie tucked close to his body and grasping with an intention of never letting go, and his eyes constantly flicker between his food and me and I try not to read into it but in the various occasions where he’d gaze outside with fancy eyes, as if searching for a fairy amidst the snow that pirouettes like new ballerinas taking to the stage.

It is a beautiful sight –

And I want him to know how I feel but the tremble in my ribcage and the nerves that ricochet of my heart whenever he flashes that gentle smile which holds a secret dying to be heard. It’s enough to make me cower.

I look at the zipper which is halfway done up my hoodie and gently nod my head upwards. It begins to ascend his slim frame until the hoodie is completely done up. “It’s winter, Zayn. Stop worrying about how you look and focus on staying warm.”

There’s a hesitant look from Zayn and the steam emanating from his hot curry covers the blazing stare his coffee eyes sends towards me. There’s a small smile with the corners tipped upwards slightly. “Easier said than done, Payne; you look good no matter what you’re in.”

For a second it seems those words barged the cold air back into the arctic and the sudden flush of my cheeks is due to the overcoming heat of his words. I blink, shocked, with my lips slightly parted and it takes a second or two until Zayn realises what he’s said before the pink in his cheeks become prominent – no matter how hard you try, winter will always expose the rouge in one’s cheeks – and he bows down and continues to eat his curry with a playful smile pressed upon those rosy lips.

I didn’t want to push; didn’t want to seem desperate, you know. But this moment is like watching a baby be born into this world or learning to ride your bike for the first time: it’s a memory that will never escape the tenacious grip of my mind.

There’s a comfortable silence in which I watch Zayn slowly eat his food – I’ve finished mine a while back but I think Zayn was too busy talking to me or looking at me to eat – and I’m taking slow sips at my cup of tea. The smoothness in which Zayn chews accentuates the perfect bone structure of his cheeks and his chin is so pointed and smooth that not even Zeus could compete him.

His eyes could tame the kraken and allow easy passage against the stormy nights of the sea, it is the light in the dark when you’re lost. The slow fall of an autumn leaf and the gentle ripple of a serene pond. To captivate such beauty in itself is an endeavour and not even Shakespeare could turn it into words worthy of such magnitude.

“So, wanna go to the park after?” I ask, breaking the silence and suddenly missing it because now it means I need to keep this conversation going. Now I can’t freely stare at Zayn without him thinking I’m manic. Damn it!

He finishes the last piece of his meal and licks his lips leaving it with a dazzling shimmer that has me restraining myself from going over and kissing it off.

“In this cold?” He asks, incredulously.

I smirk. “A tenner says that I can beat you in a snowball fight.”

There’s a child-like shine in his eyes like the past sixteen years of his life is trying claw its way out and find its way back into his life. “Just a tenner? Mate, if I win, you give me twenty, if you win, I’ll give you a tenner.”

“Pretty cocky there, Malik.”

“Well, I’m known to be quite the thrower. These arms are very powerful and can do a lot of things.”

How are they in bed, though?

“You’re on.”

-

The streets are much quieter and each breath Zayn takes is a wind chime against the rapid current of my heartbeat. He’s so close that I can smell my cologne from my hoodie but it’s mixed with vanilla and something sweet and something so…Zayn.

I step a little closer to him and there’s a staccato of electric bursts as our fingers brush against each other. There’s a heavy intake of breath and I look towards Zayn who looks at me with wide eyes for a second before he coughs and looks straight forward.

He steps further away and the small gap between us suddenly feels like we’re continents apart.

The end of the road opens to vast opening with snow-topped grass and small figures clad in bright winter coats roll and spin, dance and sing, and slip-and-slide on the newly formed snow. The snowfall’s picked up in strength and I love winter but the small mutterings of Zayn – “S-so c-cold.” “D-damn you, Payne.” – makes me love it even better albeit his miniature suffering—but hey, he should have been properly dressed.

Then I realise that he has my hoodie and I’m basically only wearing my plaid shirt. Still it seems the cold has not bothered me. Maybe it’s because Zayn’s beside me. He’s my pain relief, my panacea and it seems the warmth radiating from his small is enough for me to tolerate the worse of blizzards.

“We’re nearly there,” I tell him, but the wind’s picked up and is humming a rumbling song that has me heightening my voice a little just so he can hear me.

“Good. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get to kick your ass and we can get the fuck out of this weather.”

There’s a sudden pang of guilt coursing through me and I open my mouth to tell him that we don’t have to do this but he covers my mouth with his hand and all I can taste is the snow that’s melted in his palms.

“Don’t—I want to do this.” He pulls back his hand and smiles with rouge cheeks that brightens the white wasteland we’re wading through.

We reach the park and it’s a symphony of joy and laughter as I watch children tumbling with parents laughing carelessly behind them. There’s a little boy making snow angels with a wide smile on his face and a cute little beanie heat with a fluffy little blue ball protruding from the top of it. There are a few kids in the playground, one is letting out small whimpers as snow crumbles off of his red cheeks, a victim to a hard throw which has me smiling. I remember being like that; I remember crying when Andy would throw a snowball too hard or I fall and wet my jeans and they become all cold and soggy and every second spent in it was completely dreadful.

See, a Park is not just a location. It’s a portal, a step back into your childhood where the child inside can rejoice in sweet reverie of the times where things were so carefree and you were free to be anything you wanted to be. A Park is shadow that’ll follow you wherever you go, because everyone’s stepped into these grounds, everyone’s fallen off a swing, everyone’s laughed down the slide. It isn’t just a place; it is your childhood.

I’m too engrossed with the scene that I don’t notice Zayn’s absence until there’s a rush of pain at the side of my head and the sounds of laughter is muffled by the sounds of buzzing against my ears. I reach for the side of my head and snow crumbles off. When my ears restore back to normal, the mellifluous chime of Zayn’s laugh echoes down the shell of my ears like.

“You little shit,” I bark, laughing against chattering teeth.

Zayn grins. “Don’t swear, Li, there’s children around.”

I laugh and duck in time as Zayn sends another flying. It flies above my head and hits a tree behind me with a heavy thud. I lunge at the snow and quickly grab at it, it bites at my exposed skin but I ignore it all and focus on wiping the smile off of Zayn’s face.

I crunch the snow into a ball and quickly run behind a tree for cover. The tips of my fingers escape my senses as they become numb. They’re as pink as Zayn’s lips and I smile sweetly against them. There’s another thud and I take it the time to lean around and send my snowball flying.

It hits Zayn square in the chest and he stumbles backwards and falls into the snow. He groans, annoyed, and pouts at me with narrowed eyes. There’s an aloof grin spreading across my face as I cross my arms and stare at him with a mock pout.

He stands and shivers before turning around to show a large wet print circling his ass and the urge to laugh is too strong that I break down into a fit of childish giggles.

“Leeyummm!” he moans, rushing towards me with a handful of snow.

I try to back away but trip against the heavy weight of the snow and it’s my turn to fall backwards. But Zayn is too close to me and he falls with me, dropping the snow he is holding between his face and mine so that only our noses collide and our lips meet the wet snow in between.

“Ouch!” Zayn sputters, quickly removing himself from me and spitting out the snow. There’s an abashed look to his face as he hangs his head low to avoid meeting my shocked gaze.

We nearly kissed… If that idiot didn’t drop the snow on my mouth, we’d have kissed. Oh god, my trousers. Shit, fuck… fuckk! 

I quickly gather myself and jump out of the snow and back onto my feet. I try to dispel the awkwardness by quickly making another snowball and throwing it at him.

My fingers are trembling, my body is shaking and my legs are all soaked, but it’s worth it when Zayn giggles as he dodges my snowball and quickly takes cover behind the tree I previously used.

“Gotta do better than that, mate,” Zayn taunts. A childish timbre to his gentle voice.

“Is that a challenge, M-Malik?” I try to sound intimidating but the cold is slowly winning and my sentences are coming out as incomprehensible fragments.

I try to focus on the snow around my feet, twisting my fingers slightly and lifting my hands. The snow rises in four batches, each of them curling and crunching until they’re a perfect sphere. I watch intently and patiently at the tree holding Zayn.

There’s a shuffle followed by small giggles and Zayn’s head pokes out the corner.

I send one flying and it hits him square on the forehead. He stumbles back but maintains balance before he’s blinking rapidly at me. I don’t give him a chance as I send the other three snowballs flying towards him, each finding their mark and toppling Zayn over.

I laugh manically and a sense of pride and victory overcomes me. Zayn’s sitting up on the snow with narrowed eyes and his nose is flaring with an erratic beat. Is he mad?

“Zayn, are you okay?” I ask.

His eyes shift to my right and I turn to see a little boy looking at me incredulously.

“Hey there, kid,” I start, trying to think of an excuse to what just happened because, fuck, I shouldn’t be using my abilities in public, “that was just a magic trick I learnt recently. You like magic, don’t you?”

The little kid nods.

“Well, it’s all in the mind you see. If you eat a lot of carrots and broccoli, one day you’ll be able to do the same. Now go on and be a good kid, yeah?”

There’s a bright smile upon the kids face before he’s rushing towards a man with a large blue coat. He’s yelling, “Daddy, daddy, I want broccoli for dinner!” and Liam’s smiling genuinely at him.

“Think this is some sort of joke?” There’s a harsh voice behind me that strikes a nervous chord at my ribs.

I turn to see Zayn, standing close to me but there is no affection or endearing look to his eyes. No, it’s all anger and seething with venom.

“What do you mean?” I ask, completely baffled.

“You know you’re not meant to use your powers in public! Why the fuck would you do something so careless?” He’s yelling and it’s a side I’ve never seen before or expected from someone like Zayn, but now that I’m experiencing it first-hand it scares me a little.

“I didn’t mean to, Z.”

“Of course not,” he huffs. “You know what, Liam,” there’s a broken tone to his voice, one that’s telling me there’s more to this than just me using my powers, “you don’t know what it’s like to be stripped from your powers at birth. And then you have the nerve to do this right in front of me?”

“Zayn, I don’t know what you’re on about.” I strain my eyes on Zayn to ignore the burst of pain coursing through my body, the venom of something unknown finally showing its symptoms deep within my veins as his harsh words paralyse every bone in my body.

There’s a defeated look in his eyes before he hangs his head. “Maybe this was just a bad idea.”

“What?”

He turns around so that only the ink black of his hair is the only thing I can properly see. “You,” he whispers, like a kid being denied Christmas, “Maybe you were a bad idea.”

He walks away and all I can do is stare as he barges past the gate and out of my sight. The snow around me is much muddier and all its pure whiteness has been devoured by the careless and pointless activities of mankind—all for the incentive of fun.

Love is cruel, I know. But never did it occur to me that sometimes Cupid’s arrow will only hit one of its targets and miss the other. Bound to love someone so unattainable that even immortality cannot cure such a fate.

The children’s laughter and the parent’s shouts become a muffled sound against the pounding thought inside my head.

Am I a bad idea?


End file.
